


So Few, So Much, So Many

by Dreamkissed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellamione Coven Secret Santa 2019, Discord: Bellamione Coven, F/F, Good Purebloods, One Shot, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Teenage Bellatrix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamkissed/pseuds/Dreamkissed
Summary: For the 2019 Bellamione Coven Discord Secret Santa, gift for Gravity.Divination comes in many forms, and when a vision changes the course of history, one young woman sacrifices everything to change the future for the better.  Bellatrix Black was sentenced to Azkaban at the end of her 6th year for a terrible crime, the youngest witch ever to go to the prison.  The reasons behind it granted her a small mercy, a stasis charm that kept her from aging and in a dream-like state.  Now free, she returns to Hogwarts to complete her final year, alongside the Golden Girl.  What will happen when sparks happen between dorm-mates.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 6
Kudos: 113





	So Few, So Much, So Many

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anti_Gravity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anti_Gravity/gifts).



> This feels like a multi-chapter fic, and I have ideas of where to take it. I do not know if I will update the chapters, or simply post a summary and snippets of where I was thinking. Happy Yule!

Hermione was silent as she perused the folder full of information. Dumbledore remained quiet, watching her. She could feel the tendrils of his passive legilimency flicker against her mental barriers but let it pass without response. The case file she was reading was shocking to her; it was not just the emerald reflection in black ink staring back at her, it was her crimes.

Blood Magic, Dark Warding, Forbidden Arts, Family Magic, Time travel. Most were illegal only due to politics, the shifting fortunes of what is light and dark. Altogether, the crimes and spell-work painted the portrait of a rising Dark Lady. Forty years in Azkaban was as good as a life sentence, but the note of the stasis-charmed cell confused her.

Hermione felt the warding charm unlock as she turned the page, ‘reading her in’ to the rest of the contents. The Cruciatus Curse carried an automatic life sentence when used on another person. The charge of Taghairm made her flinch, as well as explained the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. She recalled her Divination O.W.L revisions, reading that it was a method of seeing the future through sacrificial torture. She paused to will the twitching of her thigh and knee, the memory of her time with Alecto Carrow during the war.

When she calmed herself, she continued reading. She let each page fade into clarity fully before reading it, each one making her increasingly tense. A new truth unfolded in the pages, the Mad Dark Lord’s rise to power tempered by dark magic. A sacrificial offering warded a trio of sisters, and a ritual murder that rejuvenated the most noble of the ancient houses.

“Love is the most powerful force of all Miss Granger.” Dumbledore’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, her eyes looking up from the paper. The illusion of a kindly grandfather had been shattered years ago in her mind, seeing the master manipulator behind the beard. “Her sacrifice changed the course of history before it had been written. Many more would have died had she not.” She looked down at the papers when Dumbledore gestured towards them.

Hermione read over the details of the blood ritual conducted by Bellatrix, one that would give her sisters strength, wisdom, and courage. The key anchoring mantra, 'the bond of family to light their way in the dark times to come' clearly focused Bellatrix's intent while leaving enough flexibility to avoid undesirable results. She flipped the page and turned white, despite her morbid curiosity. The sacrificial murder of a muggleborn witch at Hogwarts was the crime she was sentenced to Azkaban for.

“Why wasn’t she given the kiss?” Hermione looked up, watching as Dumbledore placed his pensieve on the desk, along with a set of three vials. She stood up when he motioned to the first via.

“View them in order, it will explain everything.” Dumbledore sat back down in his chair, watching Hermione.

Hermione picked up the first vial and poured it into the bowl. Stirring it with her wand, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. After clearing her mind, she plunged her face into the water.

* * *

Hermione found herself standing in the medical wing, between two beds. She heard a soft groan coming from behind her and turned swiftly. Her eyes fell on Bellatrix Black. She sat on one of the familiar beds as Madam Pomfrey examined her. She moved from her spot to circle around the pair. Madam Pomfrey was much younger; Bellatrix looked to be in her fourth or fifth year. That placed the memory in the mid-sixties, sixty-five or sixty-six.

She needed to find out why this memory was important. Her focus fell on Bellatrix’s hand, her twitching fingers, the way her spine trembled with each breath. She leaned forward, catching the memory Bellatrix’s face. Dilated eyes, fully blown; flushed cheeks, and shallow breathing among other clues told Hermione everything.

    Madam Pomfrey moved between Hermione and Bellatrix, waving her wand with wordless diagnostic charms. ”Miss Black, I am neither a fool, nor inexperienced; I know you have enough respect to not insult me so. I do recognize the signs of the Cruciatus Curse particularly one so severe. Dumbledore is already on his way down to speak with you.”

    Bellatrix visibly relaxed at that statement, leaning back onto the pillows. She held her hands, fingers linked to stop the twitching. She looked as if she wanted to close her eyes but afraid to. “Good, I need to speak with him.” She turned her head away from Madam Pomfrey, letting her work until Dumbledore arrived.

Hermione took a seat on the bed beside Bellatrix, taking the time to study the witch.

    Dumbledore entered swiftly, looking less like a grandfather and more like an esteemed professor without two wars and thirty years weighing him down. He quietly dismissed Madam Pomfrey and sat down next to Hermione. Now closer, Hermione saw the concern in his eyes, identical to the one she had seen directed at her by the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. “You are aware that the Cruciatus Curse carries a lifetime sentence in Azkaban for whoever cast it on you?”

    Bellatrix’s reaction was the same as her own when faced with that look. Hermione was certain she was feeling the same shame at disappointing an academic mentor. “That punishment only applies when cast on _another_ living being.” Bellatrix lifted her head and met Hermione’s eyes.

Hermione flinched and shifted her position a few inches to the left. One hand reflexively went to her scarred arm. Objectively, she knew she was only an external observer, but that linked gaze felt prophetic in a way she often dismissed.

    Dumbledore made no sound or reaction, maintaining that unflappable aura. “Are you implying that you cast it upon yourself?” The thoughtful look Hermione was familiar with, when Dumbledore encountered a puzzle, appeared on his face.

    ”Sacrificial magic within rituals can amplify the effects. Taghairm requires pain and suffering.” Bellatrix’s eyes almost closed before she began shaking. When she opened them, the shaking stopped. “I could not trust the visions witnessed unless I witnessed them myself.”

    Dumbledore leaned forward, the Elder Wand slipping from his sleeve holster. He weaved several silencing and disillusionment charms swiftly. “What did you see Miss Black?”

Hermione leaned in as well, listening as Bellatrix Black began her recounting of the induced foresight. The Vision quickly sent Hermione’s gut into the deepest pits of Tartarus. Sisters broken apart, a witch given to darkness was the only the beginning.

Her descriptions of two wars far more horrific than those experienced by the Wizarding World alone had Hermione wanting to leave the memory. The tales spoke of the dark magic and depravity that would be committed by so many. Thanatos would have a feast to gorge itself while the River Styx choked with traffic. Some came to pass, but so much did not, and Hermione felt infinitely grateful in that moment for whatever this witch would do.

Hermione felt the memory blur, having seen what she needed to see from this one. As she rose back up into the fading grey, the last words she could hear clearly from Bellatrix sunk into her head. _“If things had been different, she could have been my one.”_

* * *

Hermione took as little time as she could to regain her balance. She held up a hand to silence Dumbledore’s words, swiftly swapping the memories for the second. She met the Headmaster’s eyes and shook her head, uncertain of what could even be said in the moment. She took a deep breath and plunged her head back into the pensieve, a hint of fear at what this memory would tell her.

* * *

Hermione recognized the first floor girl's bathroom within the first moments of awareness. The sound of crying took a second moment. She hoped she would not have to figure out how to enter one of the stalls within a memory. As she walked in, she spotted the source of the soft crying.

    A fourth or fifth year Gryffindor sat between two of the sinks, crying softly. Hermione’s heart twisted at the familiar sight, her own memories of crying in this bathroom came to mind. The girl stopped crying, choking back a sob as the door to the bathroom opened with a bang. Startled by the noise, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her robes and stood up as quickly as she could.

    Bellatrix Black swept into the bathroom, as swift as she opened the door; she had it closed with an equally loud slam. Bellatrix cast the charm to lock the door and silence before the Gryffindor or Hermione saw the wand slip into her hand. She paced the entryway twice before she planted herself against the wall. Her fists tightened until they were white and with clear frustration showing, let out a loud high scream.

Hermione took in the sight; Bellatrix looked older than the last memory, not by much. Her robes sported a prefect badge and the emerald and silver of her house. The sound of Bellatrix’s scream startled Hermione several steps back before she collected herself. She reminded herself, that she was only a witness to a memory; that this was not really happening currently.

    The Gryffindor reacted similarly, her fear far more real and expected. She backed into the spot between the two sinks, her elbow hitting the smooth porcelain of one. Her yelp of pain accompanied the impact and pulled Bellatrix’s attention to her.

    ”What are you doing in here!” Bellatrix’s half snarl made clear she had found a target towards whatever frustration she was feeling. She did not yet leave her spot against the wall, but her wand did twitch as if ready to curse.

    ”Probably the same thing you are.” She drew her wand as well, kept in a pocket in her robes. Hermione noted that it was poorly polished and maintained. The girl looked at Bellatrix and looked down to her wand, her expression scrunching up in disgust at the implement. “I was here first.”

    Bellatrix snorted dismissively at the cheek from the Gryffindor, watching her movements with a wary eye. “You’re Marian McKenley, that muggleborn who has so much trouble in charms.” She finally lowered her wand, looking as if the young witch was no threat.

    ”You mean ‘mudblood’.” Marian literally spit at the tile between the two. “I hear it from your friends; I don’t need it rubbed in my face by you of all people, Lady Black.” Her hand held up a piece of parchment, clenched in a fist of her own.

Hermione’s eyes went wide, this Marian who certainly lived up to her house spirit. She felt the paper was important and moved closer, crouching to get a better angle. The O.W.L. results were immediately recognizable, but she could only make out a couple of the grades. Neither looked promising.

    ”Your OWLs?” Bellatrix’s eyes fell on the paper. Her non-wand hand pulled an identical parchment from her pocket, though far better treated. “I doubt we are the only ones unhappy with our results.”

    Marian snorted and shook her head. “What could you possibly have to be unhappy about?” She nodded towards Bellatrix’s paper. “Let me guess, Ten Os?” Hermione looked to Marian’s reaction, attempting to read the cause of the spite in her tone.

    ”Eleven, Two O-stars, and Two Es.” Bellatrix snorted as well, anger lacing her tone once more. “Not that it matters with my parents signing a stupid Betrothal contract.” She nodded towards Marian’s results. “How bad did you do?” She spoke with a sneer, clearly not in a comforting mood.

Hermione’s back stiffened, glancing towards Bellatrix. She knew one could request to sit extra O.W.Ls if they paid for them, but to do so well, and to get special distinction in two. She briefly wondered which ones until the previous trip to the pensieve came to mind. It had to be Divination and Dark Arts.

    Miriam rolled her eyes and choked back a sob. “Highest was a single P, potions. I think Slughorn was being generous.” She turned away from Bellatrix and held her wand out as if it was painful to her. Hermione could guess at what was running through her mind.

    ”He was always a sap. You can retake the class next year, get an Acceptable.” Marian cut off by Bellatrix’s words with a low snarling hiss.

    ”You don’t get it Pureblood Princess.” Marian spun on toes and raised her wand to Bellatrix. She scrunched up her face and yelled out the incantation to the Exploding Charm. Hermione flinched from the wand now inches from her face. The results however were little more than a muggle cap gun, a bit of flash and smoke. “You’re not a filthy mudblood near-squib.”

    Bellatrix’s laugh turned to a bright cackle, youthful and spirited. “You may be a mudblood, but you’re still a lion, show it.” She grinned to Marian, as if she had not just tried to attack her.

Hermione’s vision pulled back, fading to gray. She witnessed Marian turn away in shame, hearing the words of Exodus 22:18 from somewhere within Marian’s thoughts.

* * *

Hermione leaned against the desk, gasping for breath inches over the Pensieve. She wandlessly drew the second memory from the pool and replaced it with the third. Not letting the adrenaline or exhaustion take her, she dropped her head back within the surface.

* * *

Hermione recognized the corridor outside of the potions classroom, thirty years did little to change the hewn stone dungeon beneath Hogwarts. She instinctively moved to the side as a group of students exited the classroom, NEWT level, mixed houses. Bellatrix Black walked with the group, one of the last to leave the class, placing her towards the back.

    The group cheerfully discussed potion ingredients with an enthusiasm Hermione longed for her in her own classmates. Marian pulled Bellatrix's attention by grabbing her arm from behind her. Her wand slid in hand instantly as she spun around, but seeing the frazzled Gryffindor, she relaxed instantly. Hermione was not sure if it was because Bellatrix felt no threat, or some friendship developed.

    ”Black...Bellatrix; I would like to speak to you.” She nodded back the way she came, the stairs up to the rest of the hall. She looked over Bellatrix’s shoulder towards the other students, now watching them. “In private please?”

Hermione noted the look of desperation in Marian’s eyes, sunken hollows of her cheeks. Her robes hung looser, as if she was skipping meals, suffering heavily from stress. She watched as Bellatrix excused herself from her classmates and followed Marian. Hermione found it effortless to keep pace after the pair.

    Marian pulled Bellatrix into an abandoned classroom after checking the hallway was empty. She moved to the center of the room and began pacing back and forth. The stress seemed to have melted into a nervous energy. She motioned for Bellatrix to cast a silencing charm, knowing she would not be able to herself. “I know you’re planning a ritual, a big one, one that will need a sacrifice.”

    Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, remaining by the door, wand in hand. She crossed her arms across her chest, twirling a curl of her hair with her wand. “How do you know that? Who told you?”

Hermione recognized the look Marian wore, recognized her actions. The Gryffindor was psyching herself up for something big, something important. She felt energized, felt like this would make everything about this case make sense.

    ”I may be a worthless mudblood, but I do listen, and I do have eyes.” She paused her pacing and took several deep breaths. Her eyes clenched tightly shut and her mouth moved quickly. Hermione recognized the actions as a prayer. When she finished, she turned to face Bellatrix. “Use me for the sacrifice.”

    Bellatrix’s surprised look came with a loud gasp. With wide eyes, she looked to Marian, meeting her eyes as if trying to make sense of what she said. “Do you know what you are talking about? What you are suggesting?” Hermione would have laughed at the shocked look on Bellatrix Black’s face if the topic were not so serious.

    ”The ritual is dark, ancient, and powerful; you’ll need something big, like death, blood, and soul big.” Marian’s posture straightened, the lion had found her feet and was now on a roll. “I’m going to be honest, I get that this feels like one step away from taking my own life, but I don’t have options here, and if I can do something with my life, I’ll be happy.”

    Bellatrix’s jaw moved soundlessly, the disbelief radiating from her was palpable, even in the memory. “You...you have options, you…” Marian once more cut off her words.

    ”I’m failing potions again, I’m not getting it, and I am trying as hard as I can. I can feel the magic, in me, but it doesn’t come out, it just doesn’t work how it should. I’m going to fail my O.W.L retry, the Ministry will take my wand, and I’ll be effectively exiled from the magical world.” 

    Marian took a step forward, closer to Bellatrix. “And before you even think of suggesting the muggle world, it’s not a secret that my parents despise me. I can’t even call them my parents any more. They declared me a runaway last year, and cut off contact after their last owl.” 

    She placed a finger on Bellatrix’s lips when she went to speak, entering Bellatrix’s personal space. “The owls are refusing delivery, apparently my father shot at them when I tried to respond. I have no place in the wizarding world after June, and in the muggle world, I am homeless, broke, and no education. Your ritual, whatever it is. I am offering my life and my soul as the sacrifice.”

Hermione’s vision watered briefly before suddenly fading to grey. The sensation of being pulled out filled her as she left the memory forcefully.

* * *

Hermione’s awareness took several moments longer than she would have liked to return to her. She was on the floor of Dumbledore’s office, hugging her knees, catching her breath. At the sound of the Headmaster clearing her throat, she turned a glare on him and spat out her words coldly to him. “You bastard. You know everything that goes on in the school; you knew exactly what Bellatrix was planning. Didn’t you!”

“You witnessed several of my many regrets.” Dumbledore maintained his calm expression as he packed away the memories and the Pensieve back into their cabinet. “The cost of such a powerful magical artifact, it allows us to bring the wisdom of age and experience to bear upon the past.” Dumbledore turned back and moved around the desk. He offered a hand out to Hermione. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, muggles say.”

Hermione took Dumbledore’s offered hand and help standing up. Hermione felt the strength in Dumbledore's grip as he pulled her up. It reminded her that even at a hundred and seventeen years, the Headmaster was in his prime for a wizard. Once upright, she dusted herself off and took her seat in front of Dumbledore’s desk. She knew she was upset about the situation in general, not Dumbledore specifically. “So now what? I presume she’s being released?”

Dumbledore took his chair and picked a lemon drop from the container on his desk. “You presume correctly Miss Granger. As she has served her sentence, she will be allowed to return to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year.” Dumbledore offered the bowl to Hermione. “Not unlike yourself in fact.”

Hermione took a deep breath, taking one of the offered lemon drops. She closed her eyes and chuckled, admiring the smooth machinations of the old wizard. “One of these days, your games of chess will bite you in the arse.” She popped the candy in her mouth and leaned back in the chair. With a relaxed expression, she focused her gaze on Dumbledore’s forehead, avoiding direct eye contact. “Spare the speech; I will of course be willing to help her during her seventh year.”


End file.
